


Comfortable in His Skin

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Accents, Actual plot for once, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, I had to research music from the 1870s for this, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Referenced Bullying, Superiority Complex, Time Travel, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: Who would’ve guessed the secret behind Cavendish’s superiority complex could be found in a dusty little rural town in late 1800s America?





	Comfortable in His Skin

“You gotta spare waistcoat?” Dakota tugged on Cavendish’s coattails to get his attention and annoy him in one fell swoop. “I’m sticking out like a sore plum.”

“It’s sore thumb,” Cavendish yanked his coattails out of Dakota’s hands and sized him up. “And I thought you reveled in looking out of place.”

Dakota shook his head. He liked clashing clothes, this much he could not deny, but it was just what appealed to him. He wasn’t trying to make a statement with his fashion choices. “I like when we both stick out together, like we got a thing goin’ on. In the 1870s I’m just a weirdo and you look like everybody else.”

Cavendish furrowed his brow. “I wish you would stop saying that. I have nothing in common with these illiterate cow herders.”

“I don’t mean it as an insult,” Dakota cringed externally at Cavendish’s unreserved meanness. His sharp tongue was fun when they were playing, but Dakota was not a fan of him using it against people they didn’t even know. The least attractive part of Cavendish was his need to feel superior. He was always putting everyone else down. If he wasn’t so full of himself, he’d be a lot easier to love. Not that anything could stop Dakota from loving him at this point, but still, it could be easier.

“The sooner we can leave this dreadful little hick town, the better,” Cavendish adjusted his sleeve cuffs. He was constantly fidgeting with his clothes as if they didn’t quite fit him, but especially so when he felt high and mighty. Dakota didn’t understand it entirely, it made him look more nervous than arrogant.

“Well howdy fellas!”

Cavendish and Dakota both turned towards the source of the voice, and in his peripheral Dakota saw Cavendish stiffen up. The person calling to them was an energetic man who couldn’t have been older than twenty five. He had a mop of red hair and the beginnings of a mustache lining his wide grin. His eyes were Dakota’s favorite shade of blue, the same color as Cavendish’s.

He extended a hand to Dakota, shaking it with a firm grip. Up closer, Dakota could see he was missing a few teeth. “You from outta town? I ain’t never seen nobody dressed like that before!”

Dakota sent an ‘I told you so’ look to Cavendish, but he didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he had gone pale upon the sight of this guy. Dakota grimaced internally. Did his prejudice really run that deep? “Uh, yeah.” To keep up appearances, Dakota tried his hand at cowboy talk. “We uh...just blew in. Like a tumbleweed.”

“You talk funny,” he giggled. “But I like it. I like the way you talk. And your city clothes. You from the city? I ain’t never been, but maybe I woulda gone if I known somebody pretty as you was there. And what’s a flower like you called?”

Dakota laughed pleasantly. “Uh, I’m Dakota, and this is my work partner, Cavendish.”

The man let go of his hand, focused on Cavendish now. “Well gee! ‘Nother Cavendish! What are them odds?”

Cavendish did not look at him. After it was clear no one was going to talk unless he said something, he grumbled, “It’s certainly beyond me.”

The man seemed satisfied with this answer, and didn’t notice Dakota elbowing Cavendish sharply in the ribs. “Y’all can call me Balthazar. Awful fancy name for a guy like me, I get it, but it’s the only name I ever got!”

“Balthazar Cavendish.” Dakota nodded, as if saying it out loud confirmed it. What were the odds of running into somebody with the same exact name as his partner? Dakota glanced at him again, and he still looked very uncomfortable. Usually he would calm down around people when he realized he was stuck talking to them for a while. Maybe he was related to this guy, and his concern over the timeline is what had him acting like that. Messing with family members from the past was pretty illegal, as per the Sexy Grandmother doctrine.

“That’s right! So what’s it-what’s it gonna take to get you to come listen to me play my piano, Dakota?” Balthazar turned back to him, eyes sparkling. He couldn’t hide his giddiness, “I’m decent enough at it, been called an honest-to-goodness prodigy.” He laughed, as if he himself still couldn’t believe it. “Me, can’t even write my whole name, a prodigy!”

Dakota couldn’t help but smile at his pronunciation of piano. He had always been drawn to southern accents. There was something so charming about them. But everything about this Balthazar was charming. Dakota barely knew him and already felt like he was a friend. There was just this genuine aura of liveliness surrounding him. Not to mention those lovely eyes.

“Yeah, I’d love to hear you play,” Dakota told him warmly, and Balthazar achieved the impossible by lighting up even more. Cavendish raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. He amended, “But I can't stay long.”

“Right, that’s fine, that’s perfect,” Balthazar nodded with a fervency that suggested he would’ve accepted any conditions, even if Dakota had asked him to saw off his own leg first. “‘Course the other Cavendish is welcome to come with! I play down at the saloon, s’only saloon in town but it’s a mighty fine one. I’m gonna go-I gotta-I’ll set up!”

He ran off, nearly tripping over himself. Once he was out of earshot, Dakota turned to Cavendish. “So what’s your problem, dude? You related to him or something?”

Dakota thought that his theory was pretty clever, but Cavendish gave him a look that told him it wasn’t. “You can’t tell anyone.” Cavendish warned him.

“Cross my heart.” Dakota agreed without hesitation.

Cavendish pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was still trying to decide if he should tell him or not. He sighed, “That’s me.”

Dakota blinked. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

Cavendish adjusted his glasses before wringing his hands. His face was slowly getting redder and redder. He would not meet Dakota’s eyes. “Before I joined the bureau. That’s me.”

“Whaaaaat?” Dakota gaped. That created more questions than it answered. Really, the only question it answered was why Dakota was so attracted to this stranger when he thought he only had eyes for Cavendish. “He’s so- _you’re_ so-what went wrong?”

Cavendish rolled his eyes, walking in the direction of the bar with a speed suggesting he wanted to get this whole experience over as fast as possible while also wanting to get away from Dakota. “Hilarious. I received a proper education, learned how to act like a gentleman and dress like one too, and I became a time traveler. It’s not a position for yokels.”

Dakota wanted to run up next to him, but his legs were slowing down as his brain tried to process this. This was a new side of Cavendish, a side he definitely could not have imagined. Not only the younger, flirty, carefree side with the bright eyes of a dreamer, but the side that was so deeply ashamed of that side. It wasn’t just his clothes that didn’t fit right. He was constantly fidgeting and readjusting because he was trying to squeeze himself into a mold that wasn’t him. So worried he’d be exposed or found out, so afraid of what that would mean for him. And how much of that was forced into him? Whose words were he echoing when he saw the real him reflected in someone?

“Hey, man-“ Dakota tried, but Cavendish entered the saloon without so much as looking back at him.

Dakota followed him inside, getting distracted by all the clamor. Everyone chatting and drinking and dancing, the air full of laughter and the smell of whiskey.

“I’m serious, I’m bein’ serious!” Balthazar was at the piano, swatting away the hands of a friend playfully. Dakota had never seen Cavendish interact with anyone like that. “I ain’t playin’ that stupid song, I got company to impress!”

“Oh Balthy, you always impress,” she cooed, ruffling his hair. “And there ain’t a soul around who don’t love that song.”

Dakota wandered over, waving to the two. Balthazar looked like he was going to spring off the seat and through the roof. The girl smiled at him, “Mister, what’s wrong wit you? Don’t you like Smick Smack Smuck?”

“Don’t be causin’ a fuss!” Balthazar’s face went redder than his hair. “I told you, I wanna play somethin’ fancy!”

“Well hang on, I wanna hear it,” Dakota grinned. He didn’t know the song, but that only made sense. It was impossible to keep track of the all the music throughout time, especially with how easy it was to influence a musician (How was Dakota supposed to know that wild one night fling was with _the_ Beethoven?).

“If y’all insist,” Balthazar sighed dramatically, but his goofy smile was still plastered on his face. Dakota wondered if he would write him a song on the spot if he asked him too. The guy seemed eager to please, or at least eager to please Dakota. He began playing, not even looking at the keys like it was the easiest thing in the world. Cheers sprung up from the crowd as they recognized the song. It was obviously a favorite of theirs. He closed his eyes, singing playfully, “I loved a maid long years ago, a queerer girl no one can show, she had a wart up on her nose and eyes that looked just like a crow’s, she had a failing, I must say, ‘twas to be kissing all the day.”

Dakota had never heard Cavendish sing before, and it was without a doubt the nicest sound he had ever heard. If his voice held up half as well, it would be for the best Dakota had never heard him sing before, since he would’ve melted on the spot.

People were dancing, some drunkenly singing along, others were trying to have conversations over the music. But all Dakota could hear was Balthazar. All he could see was the way his fingers floated across the piano with more grace than Cavendish ever managed elsewhere. Balthazar winked at Dakota, gaining the confidence to send looks his way as he continued, “She’d kiss at morn’, she’d kiss at noon, she’d kiss from July up to June! Face to face, and nose to nose, smick, smack, smuck, and away she goes! Lay her eyebrow on your collar, hug her so that she can’t holler, tell her that you’re always true, squeeze her ‘til her face turns blue, keep it up for fifteen hours, then begin anew!”

Dakota laughed, feeling light and intoxicated by his charm, and Balthazar laughed with him. “You really are awesome at that.” Dakota motioned vaguely to the piano.

“Song is a lil complicated, I think,” Balthazar pronounced complicated very slowly to make sure he hit each syllable, “I think we need to act it out, else nobody knows what I’m singing about,” he tried hopefully, leaning in a little closer. Dakota pretended to think it over. He cupped his face and kissed him, his tiny bit of mustache tickling him and making him smile into it. Balthazar missed a single note but then doubled his tempo. If he wasn’t glowing before, he certainly was now. He whooped, and a couple people even clapped for them.

“I better go find my Cavendish now,” Dakota patted his back as he made his way over to the back of the bar, where Cavendish was perched on a stool, watching himself with something that more closely resembled sadness than judgement. Dakota sat beside him, not saying anything.

“I look like an idiot,” Cavendish muttered under his breath, cheeks reddened with shame. A lot of shame, so much that Dakota could kick himself for having not seen it sooner. The only person Cavendish was ever being mean to was himself.

“I don’t think so,” Dakota shook his head. He glanced back to Balthazar, who was now performing tricks like playing behind his back. Infectious laughter, immeasurable talent. A beautiful personality. “You just look happy.”

Cavendish stared at him, his face betraying his surprise. His cheeks were still red, but it was not from shame. He snapped out of it and got up from his seat, walking past Dakota and clearing his throat, “We still have a job to do, so don’t think you’ll get to dilly dally here all day.”

“Aw come on, you never wanna have fun,” Dakota complained, but got up after him.

Cavendish did not dignify that with a response, but he gave Dakota one of those smiles of his that managed to be both confident and shy (and always send Dakota’s heart running), and whispered, “Thanks for the kiss.”

Somehow Dakota didn’t put it together until right then that kissing either Cavendish resulted in kissing the other. Now it was his turn to go red. “Oh, right. Uh, no problemo.”

Real smooth. 

On their next assignment, when Cavendish met up with Dakota, his hair and mustache were no longer dyed grey. Dakota chuckled, “Well howdy, partner.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Cavendish snapped quickly, but then his glare softened. “Not yet. I’ll get there.”

Dakota made no effort to hide his delight. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “So how old are you, anyway? And have you ever actually even been to England? Why’d you choose a British accent? Will you sing for me again sometime? Do you actually like green or is that part of the act?”

“I think you’ve heard more than enough of my secrets for a while.” Cavendish rolled his eyes, mustache twitching as he smiled, “though I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing some of yours.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I don’t have any.” Dakota shrugged.

“Just one?” Cavendish batted his eyes at him, slipping into his drawl, “ _please, darlin’?_ ”

Dakota nearly fainted. “Yep, I think you already know too much.”


End file.
